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I have a 9 year old daughter. She makes me a better person. I thank God every night that he chose me to be her mom, that I get to love her and kiss her anytime I want (If you see the cute little boy from Sweet Home Alabama, you are my people!) I pray constantly that she’ll grow into a Godly woman. She has the sweetest heart and I look at her and I’m in awe.

Then I walk into her room and all the warm fuzzies are gone! Not just gone, but dead, buried under a 2 foot pile of dog poo. This room is my demise. I try to ignore it as long as I can and suppress my feelings, but it never lasts. Inevitably, I crack. Then I go into a throwing out rage. My daughter and I fight. EVERYTHING.IS.SPECIAL. Toys that she has completely forgotten about all of a sudden become the world’s greatest toy and she will tell me who gave it to her and all why her life will be utterly destroyed if I chunk it. Things are said, feelings are hurt and tears are shed. It gets ugly and I’m not proud of myself in these moments.

We got her a bunk bed for Christmas. In order for it to fit, we had to get rid of her 3 foot tall Barbie house. Barbie can’t be homeless so getting rid of her house means getting rid of her (all 15 of them) and her million outfits and shoes and purses and car, and if you can’t tell, I hate Barbie. I hate everything about her and the thought of removing all of it from our house made we way happier than it should.

But I didn’t want to fight with my 9 year old and I was dreading the meltdown that was in my very near future. I swear the Holy Spirit spoke to me. He said “Katie, sweet and beautiful Katie with whom I am pleased. Pour yourself a glass of wine, actually, forget the glass and grab the bottle. Disregard the fact that it’s only 8:46 in the morning. Let her binge watch Netflix and get in that room.”

Yall, when the Holy Spirit speaks, YOU LISTEN! I was me versus the closet. I had God on my side so I knew I would be victorious. I shut the door so she could not enter. The rule was she couldn’t ask me what I threw away. Out of a whole pile, she only busted me on 1 toy, so I gave it back.

Her room is so cozy, she has a reading corner and Christmas lights. In one afternoon, it transformed from little girl’s to a big girl’s room. She aged before my eyes. My baby is growing is up. I remember the day she was born, her first steps, and her first day of pre-K. Now she gets things for me when I’m too lazy to walk across the entire grocery store and she’s on a dance team with teen agers. She’s big, but not too big to be dropped off at her classroom door or snuggle every night at bed time. She’s growing up and I can’t do anything about that, but for now, I’ll just hang on to her while I’m still cool.